Father Figure
by spn22
Summary: New father Harry reflects on the father figures in his life and what they meant to him.
1. Prologue

Harry stared out the window, his baby boy breathing softly in his arms. He had insisted that Ginny stay in bed when baby James had woken at his usual preferred time- 3am. Ginny hadn't needed much convincing, her eyes puffy and swollen from one too many late nights. Harry had tonight found himself lying awake, waiting for the familiar whimper from his son. Tonight, Harry welcomed the company.

Now though, it seemed that James wasn't offering much in the way of company. He lay, content but curious, his eyes fighting to stay open as he blinked up at Harry.

Harry rocked James gently.

"It's okay, James. Go back to sleep." He stroked his cheek with a finger and James's eyes grew heavier.

"Daddy's here.I'm not going anywhere."

Harry, alarmed, found that his last sentence caught in his throat. The thought of leaving James all alone... without a father.

Had the same thought ever crossed his father's mind? The awful 'what if' questions that most parents think about but try and bury away?

What if?

Harry blinked quickly as his mind went to places it usually did in the dead of the night. Places full of faces he longed to speak to again.

Memories.

Memories were a difficult process for Harry. Some memories he was sure he fabricated and embellished over the years. A toy broom stick, smiling faces. He couldn't possibly have truly remembered such memories.

They helped anyway...and hurt.

Just like baby James reluctantly trying to fight off the inevitable sleep, Harry found his mind wandering further and further into the past. A dangerous and conflicting place of memories.


	2. Dumbledore

Harry felt overwhelmingly tired.

It had been agreed by a reluctant Madame Pomfrey that Harry be allowed to leave the hospital wing later that afternoon. Harry had felt after the events of the Philosopher's stone that he had been in the wing for weeks and he had started feeling depressed by the sounds of his fellow students in the grounds outside, especially when he had started to feel so much better. Madame Pomfrey had been insistent that Harry was to remain under her ever watchful eyes until she was sure that he had fully recovered. Harry was careful to not so much as sneeze in her presence at the fear that she might decide he was coming down with some other kind of virus caused by the "trauma and stress" that she used to describe Harry's symptoms daily.

However, as the hours crept by, Harry had started feeling an anxiety that he couldn't really understand. He had been so eager to escape the hospital wing that he hadn't really considered what was waiting for him beyond the huge white doors. Questions, stares, whispers. He hadn't liked it before...surely it would all be intensified by the events of the stone? Just thinking about it made Harry feel immensely tired. Suddenly, the crisp white sheets that he had grown to despise looked incredibly tempting.

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall, which played a new song every hour, his stomach churning. Time to go.

Placing the last of his cards and presents into a bag, Harry flung he strap over his shoulder, made an effort to flatten his hair and began to walk unsteadily towards the door.

"Ready to be off, Harry?"

Harry turned around. Dumbledore was stood behind Harry. When had he arrived? Harry hadn't seen or heard him.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore looked down at Harry kindly. "I suspected, as remarkably brave as you have proven yourself to be this year, that today you might require bit of a helping hand. I am here to aid, if that is agreeable with you."

Harry nodded and Dumbledore smiled.

"It is no shame to feel overwhelmed by sudden freedom, Harry. Even when one is trapped somewhere where they don't wish to be, the freedom removed takes away the cruel realities of having to face choice and decision. An entrapment in their selves."

Harry searched for words but his head was still spinning and he was finding it hard to process the words which Dumbledore had spoken to him.

"My dear boy, please accept my apologies. Your head has had enough pounding these last few days. The last thing you need are the tired words of an old man."

Harry looked at the floor.

"I'm...I'm nervous, sir."

Harry felt himself turning red. The words sounded so pathetic and child-like when he spoke them out loud and he immediately wished he had kept his fears in his head.

Dumbledore placed a strong hand on Harry's shoulder. "My dear boy, I would be astonished if you weren't."

"I've wanted to leave for days...but now..."

"But now it's hear, it's not what you imagined?"

Harry nodded again.

"Harry..." Dumbledore's piercing eyes looked deeply into his. "It is one thing to face the horrors of evil. An impulse takes over. Yet the realities of every day life is another story. How you act with your peers is more complicated than how we act with our enemies. A much trickier and more complicated thing to get right. In fact, very few do. You can't control how other people decide to react to life, Harry. Yet you have much more of an input on how you decide to react to them."

Harry again looked at Dumbledore questioningly.

"Oh, Harry. You must accept my apologies once again. It is one of my many, many faults. Profound thoughts should be told at the right time. Next time, please do tell me to kindly stop my insane rambling." Dumbledore leant in closer to Harry, "A similar piece of advice you may wish to use on students who take pleasure from rumours and whispers."

Harry sincerely smiled for the first time that day.

"Never feel you have to be the subject of other people's mundane lives, Harry. However, should it become too much...because, as much as I would love to reassure you that they won't, people _will_ treat you differently...at least at first, my door is always open."

Harry nodded his thanks, words failing him once again.

"I am..." Dumbledore looked carefully at Harry, "Immensely proud of you, Harry."

Harry watched an owl fly past the window, wishing that he could say something intelligent.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's eyes searched Harry's face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Shall we?"

Dumbledore stretched out a hand indicating that Harry should go first.

Harry began walking down the corridor, the sounds of the school becoming louder as he reached the huge double doors. His shoulders tensed slightly.

"Right behind you, Harry." Dumbledore's voice was soft. "Right behind you."


End file.
